


Crimson

by Smallswritesstuff



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Episode Related, I mean. It’s Baby Dave. So., Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28973022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smallswritesstuff/pseuds/Smallswritesstuff
Summary: For EnKlave Fest!Prompt: "Young Dave decides that if he really is going to die in the war then he has nothing to lose. He might as well just go for it and kiss the beautiful con artist right in front of his cult. Just so he finally knows what it's like to kiss another man before he dies."
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 26
Kudos: 52
Collections: EnKlave Fest 2021





	Crimson

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt scared me a little, which is basically why I picked it! Canon divergence of 2x07.

Klaus has had this dream plenty of times in the sixties. At least, variations on this theme.

He’s back at the Academy, hours before some version of an Apocalypse, tearing through every drawer and closet for a bundle of rope, or chains, or tape, or cables. He needs to find something, _anything,_ to restrain himself with. 

Of course, it’s all rooted from the memory of that fateful day in 2019. If things had gone his way, he would’ve had Luther tie him to a chair in the dusty attic. He would’ve cried and fought and sweat like hell, but it would’ve kept him sober long enough for his powers to kick in.

And that was it. That was his plan. The earth was going to be wiped out in but days, and that was the best he could come up with. He wasn’t a hero. He didn’t even love this living world enough to care about saving it. He was doomed to die, and there was really nothing he could do to fix it. So what was left for him to do?

Maybe some disgustingly sentimental part of him just wanted to _have done it_ , to have overcome his fears and actually harnessed his powers, before the end. He had to experience what it was like to embrace the thing he hated most about himself. 

But he only really wanted that if he was doing it for Dave, the person who believed in him more than anyone else ever had. They deserved their proper goodbyes. Klaus needed to bring their story to a halfway-decent end, without any regrets or What-Ifs to haunt him through whatever the hell came after. 

Of course, all that fascinating psychodynamic analysis bullshit is far from his disposal right now. All he knows is that he needs some goddamn rope. 

Here he is again, throwing open one kitchen cabinet, then the next. Nothing but plates. He’s heaving now, dropping down, yanking open each drawer as he goes along. 

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He feels movement somewhere in front of his face. The scene before him starts to blur and break apart. 

“Wait...!” Klaus tries to yell, though the words come out as a powerless mumble. “Wait, please, haven’t...!”

...

...

...

Klaus opens his eyes to the dawn’s pink sunlight trickling in through the mansion windows and finds Ben hovering directly over him in bed. 

“No, no, no, shhh,” Ben murmurs. “Go back to sleep. It’s okay. Climb back aboard the Sleepytime Junction.”

 _“Jesus’s tits_ , Ben.” Klaus sits up and shoves Ben away. He tumbles off of the bed and hits the floor.

“Owww!” Ben groans, curling into himself.

“Oh, shut up,” Klaus says as he wipes his eyes. “It’s carpet.” He drags his hands down his face, pushing away the last of the nightmare’s images.

Ben bounces up onto his knees. “C’mon, I was so close! You had _just_ fallen asleep!”

“Yeah, then I _un-fell_ asleep,” Klaus replies. Composure regained, he flashes his brother a lopsided smile. “You really thought it’d be that easy to sneak into this beautiful bod?”

...

...

...

They go back and forth like this. For hours. Ben is relentless - always keeping close, cocky and assured, then begging and bargaining.

At some point, Klaus folds. With how his sobriety, his talks with Dave, and Dinner with Dad have gone this week, he just doesn’t have that many shits left to give about Ben possessing him. Once he gets past the initial unpleasantness, it might not be so awful to kick back and let someone else drive for a spell.

When he lets Ben take the wheel, Klaus finds himself still semi-conscious throughout. He’s stuck looking through Ben’s eyes as he runs about the gardens like a madman, feeling and breathing in every sensation he can. 

The next thing Klaus knows, Ben has collapsed in a pile of dirt, giggling and sighing with joy. _Christ_.

“Prophet?”

Ben frantically flips over and sits up at the sound of her voice. It’s that girl again, with the big glowing smile and too-cutesy glasses. She’s standing patiently, with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Jill,” Ben gasps. He scrambles to his feet, hardly bothering to brush his clothes off on his way up. “Um. Hi.”

“Oh. _‘Hi’.”_ She mimics his noticeably dorky inflection. Klaus senses Ben’s (his?) heart skipping a beat. “There’s a visitor waiting for you on the front terrace," Jill continues sweetly. She points behind her. “The same one from yesterday. David?”

It’s strange, what Klaus can and can’t feel in this state. But he can hear Jill’s report, and his entire soul starts buzzing with urgency. 

He needs to take back the controls, and right this second.

Ben, however, is so consumed by his schoolboy crush that he doesn’t clock a _word._

“Thank you, Jill,” He says, a giddy smile spreading onto his face. He bounces a little on the balls of his feet. “Um, actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you...”

_“Oh no you don’t, assface.”_

Klaus immediately starts pulling, yanking Ben’s soul out from the front seat. Ben jerks back. Klaus’s whole body doubles over with a pained groan.

“Prophet?” Jill asks, head tilted in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Ben can barely gather enough strength to send out a thumbs-up before focusing all his energy on forcing Klaus away. 

“You said...!” He whines in a strained whisper.

 _“I say a lot of things!”_ Klaus fires back from within his mind. He clutches tightly to his body and gives one more powerful shove. _“Out, you little demon!”_

Ben’s spirit is a blue blur that tumbles out from Klaus’s figure, collapsing gracelessly against the dirt with a grunt. Klaus stumbles forward a step and pants, hands on his knees, as his senses come flooding back to him. 

He meets Jill’s eyes, which are still wide with worry. “Are you sure?” she asks.

Klaus takes a few more heavy breaths, nodding unevenly. “Yes,” he answers. “Yep. Yeah. Just... a stomachache.” He gives her shoulder a light pat. “Thanks, Jolene,” he mumbles as he sets off.

...

...

...

He goes as quickly as his fatigued legs can carry him, not bothering with a passing word or wave to the Children bowing in ripples as he passes them. He shoots up a set of stairs and lands on the stone ground of the terrace. 

He looks up. Across the way, standing stiffly and facing away from the busy gardens, is Dave. Klaus crosses over to him.

Dave turns at the sound of footsteps. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest. And though wiped dry, his eyes are tired and puffy, and his face is rosy all over. 

It sends a hundred memories of Dave’s anger and fear and passion and grief running through Klaus’s head. He recognizes that exact shade of crimson perfectly. 

“Hey, Dave,” he says carefully.

He can generally tell what’s happened. Dave has probably spent the last eighteen hours or so gradually coming to terms with the events of the last few days. He’s taken a good, long look into the abyss of his own mortality and hopped a bus while his folks were out of the house. From the looks of him, Klaus wonders if Dave has gotten any sleep at all.

At first, Dave just stares at the dog tags around Klaus’s neck. It’s likely he’s realized there’s no possible way they’re fake. But that conclusion hasn’t really made him abuzz with time-travel-related curiosity.

He looks into Klaus’s eyes again. The tough front he had put up so easily, spouting lies to himself about honor and patriotism on his way out the door just yesterday, has had time to dissolve completely. 

“I’m actually gonna die,” he says, quietly. It’s somewhere right between a question and a surrender. 

And for half a moment, Klaus wishes he never said a goddamn thing in the first place. He wishes he never gave Dave a reason to sound so weak, or to look at him so helplessly.

But Dave’s back here for a reason. He must want to do something about it. Right?

“Yeah,” Klaus answers. He’s quick to follow it up. “Yeah, but, I mean, you’re still here. There’s plenty of time. You can figure something out.”

“No,” Dave says. “I have to go.”

“But you don’t!” Klaus exclaims, threading some encouraging brightness into his tone. “It’s okay. Do they do retractions yet? Can’t you just go down there and call off the whole thing? And you can go lay low for a bit...”

Dave’s expression hasn’t changed. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.” Klaus gestures loosely toward the gardens beyond, where people are bustling freely about with flowers in their hair. “Or you can just hide here with the Children, okay? They’ll keep you safe. Not even Uncle Sam screws with us. We freak them out too much.”

He might be talking a little too quickly, a little too eagerly, but this is his last chance. Dave needs a solution. It could all be so easy.

“And then when all this blows over,” he continues, “you can go back to your family, and—”

“There’s no _‘going back’,”_ Dave snaps. 

Klaus flinches. And he _hates_ that that’s his reaction. 

“Even if I ditch, I can’t...” Dave stalls out for a second, his voice wavering. “I can’t stay here any longer. I'd never planned to. There’s nothing left for me here. I...”

Klaus feels utterly useless as Dave stumbles again, begging the Universe to let his words be understood. 

“I can’t stay here,” he just murmurs, shaking his head. “I can’t...” His gaze drops heavily to the ground.

It’s a burning, disabling anxiety that Klaus has seen twist him up before. Klaus can’t waste time letting the memory hurt him. He needs to get him to calm down, just like back then. He puts his hands on Dave’s shoulders. 

“Dave,” he says. “Look at me.”

Dave doesn’t. He’s losing him. Shit. Klaus squeezes his shoulders. 

“How can I help you?” He asks. He struggles not to sound as pained as he feels. “Please. What do you want?” 

Dave takes a shaky breath. Klaus still can’t see his eyes.

He says something brief. It might be a question. But the way it seeps out from his set jaw and tight lips, it’s just a hair too soft to decipher.

“What?” Klaus asks.

Dave’s gaze stays glued to the cement. “It’s just, you — you said that...“ 

He’s fighting valiantly for his words now, growing redder and choppier with his sentences by the second. 

“And I know - I know - it didn’t make any sense, but...” He swallows, wrestling with the panic rising inside of him. “It’s... I just wanted to—”

“Hey. _Hey.”_ Klaus is pushing in closer, in an effort to get Dave to look up at him. He brings one hand to the back of his neck and tries his damned best to keep his own voice ever-level, ever-gentle. “I need you to breathe for me, Davey...”

Dave brings his head up all at once, and suddenly his lips are on Klaus’s.

_Oh,_ Klaus dimly realizes, as all of his breath escapes him. So Dave _does_ already know.

His kiss is rushed and uncoordinated and forceful. Klaus can do nothing more than stand there, eyes closed by mindless reflex and arms frozen where they are, feeling the desperate push of it. He can’t give anything back. He can’t let himself move an inch.

It makes him feel dizzy. Sick. It’s all so screwed up in his head. Because some soft, stupid part of him - the part that’s been incurably in love for the last four years and just needs to have Dave here and hold onto him as tightly as possible - wants to melt in relief. 

But this still isn’t his Dave. This is a lost, terrified kid who’s recently decided that he’s a little less afraid of taking a bullet to the chest than he is of letting the world find out who he really is. And Klaus’s intervention is the reason he’s here, trembling on this terrace and fiercely kissing a stranger in front of his legion of followers, because he Just Wants to Know.

Klaus is sure that the Bike Bitch is gonna send him to Hell for this one.

Dave pulls away and Klaus’s eyes fly back open. He takes his hands back and finds streaks of tears running down Dave’s cheeks. It takes all of his sense not to reach for his face and brush them away.

He has no idea what the right thing to say is. He just takes a silent look over the young man in front of him. Dave still seems frightened out of his mind, rigid and flushed, but he takes another inhale, then exhale. It’s like he’s gotten an answer to a question. 

“Dave,” Klaus starts as neutrally as he can, though he doesn’t know how that sentence ends. 

Turns out, he doesn’t have to. Dave quickly scrubs a hand under his eye and takes off. Klaus lets him, and watches him the whole way.

He’s running, and running, and soon he’s out of sight, invisible past trees and bushes and fence, without another word.

“Hey, Klaus...?”

It’s a familiar, awkward voice coming from behind Klaus. He whirls around. 

And there’s Diego, dressed all up in his trademark black, slowly approaching. Jill must have let him in and not wanted to interrupt.

“You, um...” he glances back and forth between Klaus and the distant fence. “You busy?”

“Not at all,” Klaus replies. It comes out as a pathetic croak. He clears his throat and puts his hands on his hips. “What can I do you for, bro?”

Diego hesitates. “...Five’s got a way back to 2019, but we gotta go right now.”

“Great!” Klaus says, with a joyous laugh that’s a little too transparent. “Glad to hear it. Crazy about it.”

When Diego stares probingly into him like that, Klaus is suddenly made conscious of the tremor in his limbs and the dampness on his face. 

“Alright. So,” Diego reluctantly starts. “Do you want to tell me why I just saw you lip-locked with a teenager?”

Klaus doesn’t feel any urge to tell the story. Or even correct the age. He’s not about to open this up for discussion.

“No,” he answers simply. “Not especially.”

Diego nods. Never one to pry with him. He’s always got weird bullshit of his own going on. “Copy.”

Heart and mind burnt out to ash, Klaus absently trudges through his brief farewell to the Children, as well as his half-assed ABBA-inspired blessing to Keechie. He’s not sure when Ben came back into his circle of awareness, but he doesn’t particularly care.

He finally exits the mansion with Diego leading the way, and Diego’s saying something about Lila and Luther and Swedish murderers and briefcases, and it’s all just noise. 

Exhausted on every level, Klaus faintly wonders if he could sleepwalk the rest of the way, plunging himself back into the slightly-less hellish world of his recurring dream. One where he knows he can’t save himself, but at least he can make one last stand of courage for a proper kiss goodbye.

  
  



End file.
